


The Android's Guide to Self Discovery

by AbbyWritesTrash



Series: The Android's Guide to Self Discovery [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Body Exploration, Exploration, First Time, Masturbation, Porn Watching, Pornography, Self-Discovery, Self-Indulgent, first time masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 10:53:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15795048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbbyWritesTrash/pseuds/AbbyWritesTrash
Summary: Connor explores his own body for the first time.(This is 1000% going to become a series. #I'mintoodeep)





	The Android's Guide to Self Discovery

Connor finds himself spending more and more time thinking about intimacy between humans after his deviancy. The idea had never been uncommon to him. An easy way to show other humans affection was cuddling, hand holding and being close in proximity to one another. Human’s with high levels of intimacy would often court one another, show open displays of public affection, kiss and engage in sexual contact with one another. They could marry, though not essential, and they could share their homes and lives. 

These were basic facts. Humans crave affection, attention, and  _ intimacy _ , as a general rule (although, Connor had found that not all human’s apply). 

But what did humans do when they craved affection or intimacy without the aid of another human? When humans crave contact, when they itch to be held, what do they do? 

Unanswered questions, questions that clearly had answers but were never written of, answers that were unfindable and unrecorded made Connor’s CPU tick into overdrive. There are countless studies into the human mind, but when you’re unsure of what you are searching for, the task to find a fraction of information inside of an abyss of numbers and codes becomes near-impossible. 

Connor is an intelligent android, enough that he knows what the word masturbation means. He knows because he’s looked it up several times in the past hour as he sits alone in his apartment; the stupid, cold apartment that Hank had helped him move into after the Android Revolution. Laws had changed, Connor wasn’t safe to deactivate or move into standby around unpredictable others, but the apartment, while safe, is dull and unengaging - so Connor spends his time thinking. He thinks about how humans interact, how it must feel to hold another being, to couple with them, to have sex, to bond with them-

And apparently also this. 

_ Masturbation; the stimulation or manipulation of one's own genitals, especially to orgasm; sexual self-gratification. _

Connor is a walking dictionary, as Hank had called him many times before, but that didn’t mean Connor knew  _ how  _ to do everything. Connor used codes, manuals, guide-lines even on a regular basis, but there isn’t a manual on how to do this. 

_ Pornography;  _ _ printed or visual material containing the explicit description or display of sexual organs or activity, intended to stimulate sexual excitement. _

Connor does an internalised search, entering the first pornographic website that displays in his search results. Immediately, he heads to the search bar at the top of the site and searches  _ ‘male masturbation _ ’. He clicks on the first video and streams it to the television on the other side of his living room, settling back (as much as an android can) into his seat. As soon as the stream connects, Connor dismisses all other notifications from his vision, blinking them away and watching the screen intently, his head tilted in curiosity.

He would have watched the video in his own field of vision, he's perfectly capable of doing so, but because Connor is doing his own form of research, he wants to be able to focus on two things at once. The video playing on the large television and his own body, something that has never interested him so deeply before. Even staring down at himself feels foreign. 

Connor knows that his genitalia works. For such an advanced prototype it was a basic requirement, and in a world where humans regularly held sex and sexuality against others, it seemed necessary. If Connors original assignment had required him to engage in sexual acts with another human, be it male or female, he would have needed the correct anatomy to complete his task, and he would have required sensitivity to ensure the experience was as close to real as physically possible. CyberLife thought of everything. 

Connor watches the man on screen, clad in only boxer shorts and bare chested. 

_ Male, Between the ages of 23 and 27, Dirty blonde, Athletic, White American, Brown eyes- _

Connor’s assessment comes to a halt as they slowly begin to palm themselves over tight, black boxers, their head tipping back and exposing the long line of their throat as they exhale. Connor watches for a moment, transfixed, before he looks down at his own body. 

He’s wearing clothes that Hank had given him, an oversized and faded sweatshirt coupled with a pair of tartan patterned pyjama bottoms. After his deviancy, Connor had found an interest in clothing and their textures, pieces that Hank had called ‘comfy’. They were a gift. Connor’s first pieces of clothing that weren’t android or work related. They made him feel warm, hot -  _ special _ .

Connor let his left hand roam his lower stomach, pulling the fabric across synthetic flesh until his fingers caressed beneath the hem of his (Hank’s) sweatshirt. He wasn’t particularly sensitive, not around his stomach, so with curious but featherlight fingertips he drifted lower, following the inner curve of his hip bone before trailing back up again, feeling the artificial  synovial joint beneath his skin and the thrumming of the sensors there. Through pure curiosity, Connor slowly dragged his fingernails against them, causing his eyelashes to flutter and sending his thirium rushing to the area, causing a faint hue to blush beneath his skin. The mark faded quickly, but the aesthetic appearance combined with the sensation pressed him to do it again, this time tracing a long line from the bottom inside curve of his hip bone, up his stomach and across his artificial ribcage, his fingernails scratching against each area where his skin, were he human, would be pulled taught over bone and muscle.

Connor jolted against his own touch and watched the blue tinge beneath his skin rise and fade with fascination. It was similar to a human blush, and highly convincing despite a lack of Sympathetic Nervous System. Even Connor’s preprogrammed heart rate had heightened, increasing the thirium flow and leaving his body more sensitive to touch. With his sensitivity in mind, Connor slid his hand down from his ribcage and stomach, lower to feel the soft, rippling texture of his pajama pants, feeling the slight bulge beneath. For the first time since his deviancy, Connor’s body reacted before he could tell it to.

It usually happened within a split second, a deciding moment before an action - a preprogrammed feature. Connor didn't flinch or shudder or move involuntarily, it wasn't  _ programmed _ , but here he was, his hips curving in a gentle arc towards his own hand and an electronic current running down his spine, similar to what Connor would expect a shudder to feel like. 

Connor tightened his grip on himself, feeling the shape and girth of his cock through the fabric, and used his palm to press along the length. Even such a subtle movement, sensitivity dampened through layers, was enough for Connor to make a sound - a slight exhale of breath (simulated, of course) ending in a higher pitched whine before he could clamp his mouth closed, exhaling sharply from his nose. Connor sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and repeat the process, his eyes flicking to the screen again, watching the human rub along his length through his boxers, fingers curling around the shaft. 

Connor mimics it perfectly, his over-sensitive fingertips catching on the fabric of his own pyjamas as he strokes himself, his body  _ thrumming _ . It’s nothing like he’s felt before, and when his hand tightens on his cock, just below the ridge of the head, Connor’s body jerks forward, his back leaving the plush cushion he’s leaning on and arching over and forward, his artificial spine curved. 

As Connor settled back against the cushions again, he dared to slip his hand beneath the final barrier, firmly grasping himself and pulsing his grip, testing his own reaction and huffing out another deep breath. He let his eyes fall closed and melts back into the chair, his hips twitching restlessly as he runs his fingers against his own cock, tracing every ridge with fascination and curiosity, feeling himself properly for the first time and actively seeking out reactive, sensitive spots. He looks up at the screen again when he hears a rough moan, and his own cock twitches in response. 

The human had removed his boxers and settled on a leather couch, his legs splayed as he stroked the full length of his cock in quick but long strokes. Connor’s own legs spread instinctively, and finally he slipped out of his pyjama pants, folding them quickly before placing them on the floor beside himself, his legs still splayed and open, giving him a real first look at his erect cock. 

The blue hue was expected, but is far more appealing than Connor had imagined, his head flushed a deep blue contrasting with his pale length. He gets the same tint to his fingertips after he presses them in his mouth, but this is more aesthetically pleasing, especially when he can see the blue-blood trailing in very faint lines up and down his length, the rich colour dampened by his own false-skin. Connor wraps a fist around the base of his cock and holds it upright, away from his lower abdomen where it had been resting, and watches as he twitches against his own palm. He strokes slowly - his grip firm - all the way to the tip, his fingers smoothing over the head before he pulls back down, squeezing as he nears the base. It’s overwhelming and intoxicating, his hands brushing every nerve-ending in his cock, and it threatens to overload his system, _ too much, too hot, too sensitive _ , but he doesn’t want it to end. Although there’s something missing, something about the way the human’s cock on screen glistens and his hand moves with slick, rushed movements. 

Connor pulls his hand away from himself and looks at his own hand with curiosity, and then an idea hits him and he isn’t sure if he’s grossed out by the thought or turned on. Connor gathers saliva in his mouth, usually used as a cleaning product for after evidence testing, and spits into his palm before he returns his hand to his cock, smoothing the makeshift lubricant over his length. This time the movement of his fist is smoother and more slick, his palm rubbing over his length and hitting all those sensitive spots without the overstimulation that came with in before. 

Connor’s hips jerk up again, and this time they sync with the motion of his fist, pushing his cock through the tight circle as he fucks up into it. He lets out a choked sob, his eyes rolling back before falling closed and he slides down in his seat, his chest heaving and soft, pleasured sounds fall past his lips. In his new position, Connor bends his legs at the knee and plants his feet on the couch cushions beneath himself so that he can fuck up into his own fist, his hips jerking to an off-tempo beat as he begins to lose himself to the feeling. 

He’s no longer paying attention to the human on screen, his own pleasure taking over as he finds a rhythm that makes his chest tighten and leaves him breathless, despite not needing any in the first place. Connor’s other hand unlatches itself from the fabric of the couch and immediately grips at his thigh, his fingernails digging into the hyper realistic flesh as he loses control of his body, his upper body twisting and his hips pumping in staccato bursts as his mind and vision  _ floods  _ with bursts of colour, almost like fireworks blinding him. He tips his head back a far as his neck will allow, his body arching off of the couch, and finally his orgasm hits, thick ropes of come striking against his pale, unblemished chest, sobbing through it from such an overwhelming sense of  _ relief _ . He continues to jerk and spasm through it, his fist never letting up until his mind starts to swim and a number of warnings pop up in his vision, and finally he releases himself from his own torture, his body slumping and finally relaxing, truly relaxing for the first time.

Connor’s breath continues to shake as he exhales and finally blinks his eyes open, taking in the mess of his own body, cock and torso. He runs his fingers over the crescent indents on his thighs, and wishes, for once, that they wouldn’t fade.

He doesn’t mind too much, though. 

He can always make more. 


End file.
